


Tell Me of the Deep Blue

by trulywicked



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: BAMF Lance (Voltron), Captivity, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Incorruptible Lance, Langst, M/M, No Lion Switch, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Zarkon Tries to Recruit Lance, Zarkon is a big bag of dicks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-21 21:12:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13749339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trulywicked/pseuds/trulywicked
Summary: Lance has been captured by the Galra. He fully expects to be tortured for information or made an example of or tossed into the Arena.But Zarkon has a far more insidious plan in mind.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There was no Lion Swap in this fic so Lance is still Blue's pilot. Matt has not yet been found and Shiro never disappeared. Instead Lance was captured.
> 
> This was beta'd by the AMAZING [Sachiela](http://sachiela.tumblr.com/) who is an utter sweetheart and worthy of a million, billion piles of love.
> 
> Enjoy the ride my loves and do please drop a comment to let me know if you like it.

Lance groaned softly, his head pounding as he woke. The first thing that assaulted his eyes was the overwhelmingly dark purple shades that sent only one thought slipping through his mind and out of his mouth. “Oh, quiznak.”

 

There was a very soft chuckle to his left and he turned his head to see Zarkon himself standing there in all his craggy, sea-turtle-mouthed glory. 

 

Instinctively, Lance tried to surge up, to move into a defensive position, and found that his arms and legs were bound. He craned his neck to look at them and saw that he was restrained with some sort of energy that engulfed his limbs and even a couple bands of it that went across his waist and chest. There was no way he was going to be moving.

 

What surprised him was that the restraints didn’t hurt. In fact, the only thing that hurt was his head and he  _ knew _ that he’d had serious injuries before he’d been captured and passed out from blood loss.

 

“I imagine that you have quite the headache from the hemorrhaging. It was the one thing the healers were unable to remedy.”

 

Lance looked at Zarkon, eyes narrowed on him suspiciously. Then his jaw nearly hit the floor when the great evil emperor  _ smiled _ at him. “This is officially the weirdest dream I have ever had, and I dreamt that the mullet married Kaltenecker once.”

 

“As disappointing to you as it no doubt will initially be, you are not dreaming.” Zarkon moved to a very plush chair in Lance’s view and sat. “You have already gathered that you are on my ship. You knew as soon as you opened your eyes.”

 

“The purple is a dead give away. Have you considered branching out your color scheme? I hear chartreuse is all the rage this season.” Sue him, Lance couldn’t keep from running his mouth even if he’d been getting choked to death. Which he wasn’t. He’d been healed and was restrained in a way that caused no damage. He wasn’t even hungry! 

 

“Fashion was never of much concern to me.” Zarkon crossed an ankle over one knee, eyes on Lance. 

 

“So what exactly is your plan here? Because if it’s using me as bait...well, that’s a pretty lousy plan. My team is way too smart to fall for that.”

 

“Perhaps, perhaps not. That point is moot as I do not intend to use you as bait.”

 

“Workcamp? Arena? Something creepy I don’t even want to think about?”

 

“No. I would not risk you being put in a work camp and inciting riot and rebellion.”

 

Lance had to admit he was almost flattered that the purple turtle thought he’d manage to do that.

 

“While I do not doubt you would do well in the Arena, I have no interest in watching you fight for your life.”

 

“And there goes thinking about what I don’t want to think about. Look I am not-”

 

“Going to be put in the brothels either,” Zarkon interrupted calmly.

 

Lance eyed him. “Then what? I’m just a pretty prize for you to show off? ‘Look, we caught the Blue Paladin? Gaze upon him and tremble at my might?’”

 

“No. As demoralizing as that would assuredly be for the other Paladins, I have a far more painful plan in mind. I wish to have you join my ranks.”

 

Lance  _ stared _ for several humming ticks then threw back his head and laughed in Zarkon’s face.

 

It took an entire varga for Lance to stop laughing. Every time he tried, he’d think about the fact that Zarkon had, with an utterly straight face, said he wanted Lance to join the Galra and Lance just started giggling again. What made him stop laughing was the fact that Zarkon didn’t so much as frown. He just stood in the face of Lance’s hilarity, an amusement of his own on his face, and waited.

 

No anger, no insult, not even a hint of disconcertion. It worried Lance enough that the humor disappeared. “You have got to be straight up looney tunes if you think for one second I’d betray my team.”

 

“Oh I know that it certainly will not be easy--you were chosen by the Blue Lion after all--but the effort is worth it. Even if I fail, the opportunity to try will be worth the effort.”

 

“So how are you going to go about this then? Brainwashing? Corrupted quintessence? Some kind of mind control?” Lance sneered even while deep inside him he was stunned that anyone would consider him worth an effort that was likely to fail, much less the biggest enemy Voltron had.

 

This time it was Zarkon who laughed. It was a short laugh and clearly rusty, but it  _ was _ a laugh. “I see that even with Coran there, no one has come to realize the truth of those chosen by the Blue Lion.”

 

Lance glared at him. “And you know this ‘truth’?”

 

“I  _ was _ Black’s Paladin, if you recall. I was the leader, the head as the Champion is now. I intend to become her Paladin again. I know the intricacies of the Lions and their bonded pilots far better than any other. The Champion is so closed off that he blocks a full bond from forming. Until he opens himself he will remain just as much in the dark as the dear Princess and Coran.”

 

A chill went through Lance. According to Coran and Allura, Shiro had the closest bond of any of them with his lion and, as much as Lance wanted to believe Zarkon was full of it right now, there was a tone to Zarkon’s voice, an almost wistful edge that came with walking through memories, that made that difficult. 

 

“I see I have your full attention now.” It was almost gentle. “The Blue Lion chooses the loyal, the incorruptible. I could not brainwash you no matter the strength of my druids. Any quintessence we were foolish enough to attempt to infect you with would be purified and become yours. Those the Blue Lion chooses are the  _ heart _ of the team and the ones who have such a deep well of love for their comrades they can  _ drown _ in it. Coaxing you to join me will be the most difficult task I have ever undertaken. Nigh an impossible task.” Zarkon rose and moved to stand in front of Lance, looking into the wide blue eyes. “But you are worth all the effort it will require, Lance McClain.”

 

Lance watched as Zarkon left the room, utterly stunned, his head spinning, and no idea what was going on. He just knew that he’d never heard someone call him worth it with such conviction in his  _ life _ except his Mama when she spoke of the thirty-six hours she’d struggled to bring him into the world. Having Zarkon, the universe’s biggest bag of dicks, call him worth an impossible amount of effort was, hands down, the most twilight zone-y thing that had  _ ever _ happened to him.

 

\--------------------------------------------

 

It didn’t take long to figure out that Zarkon was not planning on torturing him into loving Zarkon’s empire and joining. Nor on starving him or depriving him of water. Honestly, Lance hadn’t eaten this well since leaving Earth. It wasn’t Hunk’s fault; they just didn’t have the resources for Hunk to properly cook anything. That Hunk had managed to make food that tasted good (though not up to Hunk’s Earth standards at all) with the scant supplies they could scrounge from empty planets and the minisculely tiny amount Allura accepted from freed planets (which Lance agreed with--those people had already lost enough, they needed as much of their resources as they could keep) was a testament to his bomb-ass cooking skills.

 

Still whoever was in Zarkon’s kitchen had plenty of resources and skills because the food that was delivered to Lance was a-fucking-mazing. He refused to eat any food or drink anything unless some random guard tasted it first but so far there had been nothing added to the food or drink.

 

He'd been released from the restraints that held him immobile when he'd first awakened as Zarkon and his pet druid had fitted wrist and ankle bracelets and a collar on him, explaining that they would activate and adhere to the nearest flat surface if he tried to escape. So far he’d tested them a dozen times and every time he started to run, he wound up stuck to a wall or the floor if there weren’t any walls nearby until Zarkon or Haggar came by to free him.

 

What weirded him out was that none of the Galra soldiers mocked him or sneered when they’d pass by him when he was stuck fast. None of them touched him. The most that had been said was by a very young foot soldier who had told him that he really should stop trying to run. 

 

Lance would never stop trying to escape, never stop trying to get back to his team, back to Blue. No matter what.

 

But it was so strange to be allowed to roam Zarkon’s ship, to learn Galran from the subliminal teaching aids and read in the massive library on the ship. It was through those subliminal aids that Lance realized Zarkon hadn’t lied about being unable to brainwash him. There were some very fine, very subtle compulsions laced in learning aids from the Galra empire and not only had Lance been aware of them, he’d shrugged them off like water off a duck’s back.

 

And then there was the training deck on Zarkon’s ship. He was allowed to go there, allowed to train, allowed to pick up weapons and handle them. Escape attempt number three had made it clear that he couldn’t take the weapons with him. Attempt number seven had been when he’d learned that aiming at a guard outside the training ring landed him stuck fast as well.

 

But he was allowed to train and, more than that, he was  _ taught _ by many of the soldiers who came and went. He was given tips, taught how to throw blades with just as much accuracy as he used a blaster, taught how to  _ really _ use his lithe and flexible build in a hand-to-hand fight, and when he’d mused about his aerial dance skills getting rusty, the next quintant there had been a modified installation for him to practice there.

 

Questioning Zarkon about it did not help Lance’s confusion one little bit.

 

“Why would I want someone I hope to have as a general in my army to lose their strength while I am convincing them to join my cause? It benefits me more to support and nurture your skills, Lance.” The Galran Emperor had a smile on his craggy sea turtle face again.

 

Lance paced in the room. It was the one he’d woken in, one appointed as his bedchambers with an attached bathroom. “I ever get the opportunity I will blow your face off. One instant and a weapon is all I need.”

 

“Yes.” It was easy agreement.  _ Sincere _ agreement. It wasn’t the tone or expression of someone being patronizing or pretending to humor Lance. “Great prizes do not come without danger. It is a risk I will take.”

 

“You confuse the hell out of me. Probably part of your dastardly plan.” It was a mutter as Lance looked out the huge window of the room, the stars bright specks on liquid dark, and reached out, trying to connect with Blue. But wherever Voltron was they were too far for him to reach her.

 

“Not particularly. Confusion is more of a distraction than I would prefer. So long as you are confused, you listen with only half an ear.”

 

There was another thing, Zarkon was a  _ talker _ and for someone who’d betrayed and nearly slaughtered his fellow paladins, he was full of stories of them. Lance had lunged at him, doing his dead level best to break Zarkon’s jaw when he’d started talking about King Alfor. All the pain Allura had, all the grief and loss, because of Zarkon’s actions that had taken her father, her people, and the bastard had the  _ balls _ to talk about Alfor? That was not on.

 

Of course, Lance hadn’t landed the blow, Zarkon catching his wrists and holding him back until Lance had worn himself out. And then the asshole had  _ praised _ him for his reaction. Called it admirable and yet more proof that the Blue Lion had chosen exactly the right pilot.

 

“I really, really want to see you explode into teeny tiny chunks.” Lance hissed.

 

“Blaytz expressed that same wish before he took Blue and hid her away.”

 

“Well, gee, his trusted leader only stabbed him and the rest of their team in the back, so I wonder why?” Lance began pacing again.

 

“He wasn’t, however, particularly skilled at sarcasm.”

 

“I’m gifted that way.”

 

“You are gifted in many ways. Several of which I do not think you recognize.”

 

It made Lance stop his pacing and turn to frown at Zarkon. “What?”

 

“You are, to begin with, a very skilled sniper. The best in terms of raw talent I have seen in 10,000 years. You learn incredibly quickly. In the phoeb you have been here, you have learned the Galran language, begun to learn Altean, and gained a proficiency at two new battle skills to a level that you can outdo many soldiers who have trained for decaphoebs in those skills. Your tactical planning abilities exceed those of two of my best commanders.”

 

Lance snorted in disbelief. His tactics had never gotten so much as a ‘I’ll take that under advisement.’ from Shiro or Allura. The only time they were listened to was when there wasn’t any other option and they were in a dangerously tight spot.

 

Zarkon hid the satisfaction of the chink in Lance’s emotional defenses. “When I had the opportunity to speak to Black again, brief as it was, I learned a great deal about the battles your team has fought, I  _ saw _ the outcome of battle plans you have made on the fly and they were nothing short of brilliance. That the other Paladins and the Princess do not recognize that is a failing in them. Not in you.” A chime rang, a reminder that Zarkon had a meeting with his current generals, and he stood to leave. “I will see you again tomorrow.”

 

Lance stood frozen, once more struck speechless as Zarkon left the room, the words ‘A failing in them. Not in you,’ echoed in his ears and made something wrench painfully in his chest. He closed his eyes and sent a thought begging out into the universe.  _ ‘Blue, please find me. I want to come home to you, before I start listening to this crap.’ _

 

\------------------------------

 

Lance tried to remain aloof from the Galra around him. He tried so  _ damned _ hard, but he was not a loner by nature. He was a social creature who thrived on being around people. It was inevitable that he’d wind up talking with the soldiers and civilian staff he had contact with. He drew the  _ line _ at druids, though. Still, he had conversations with those around him and saw another side to the war he fought.

 

He saw the side that died at Voltron’s hands. They become more than the faceless monsters in the closet and became living, breathing people with hopes and dreams and  _ families _ . Families on board this very ship.

 

He’d come across the creche quarters where the children of those on board stayed while their parents worked or took their guarding or patrol shift. Sort of like a daycare from what Lance had been able to tell. He’d been swarmed by curious Galra kids asking questions, wanting to climb on him and make a new friend. A whole pack of bright, smiling faces too young to know war.

 

He’d stayed the entire day, playing with them, making them laugh, and being reminded with every breath that when his team came for him, these babies would then learn of war, learn of the fear that came with it, and perhaps even the loss of their parents.

 

It hit him hard in his deepest heart and sent him into a spiral of self-hatred that had resulted in another thirty-eight escape attempts over the course of a movement and him dislocating his own shoulder in a bid to struggle free of the bracelets pinning him to the wall.

 

_ That _ had gotten the first reaction of anger from Zarkon. 

 

The Galran Emperor stood over Lance, very nearly sizzling with his fury, as the onboard healer tsked and treated Lance’s shoulder.

 

“Well, I can say that you did a marvelous job of injuring yourself without the intent to do so.” The healer’s tone was almost cheerful and reminded Lance of Coran. “Though, I do wonder why you became so desperate.”

 

“I’m a captive. Escape is the name of the game, including to the point of desperation.” Lance chirped, deflecting with humor and insouciance as he always did. 

 

“Hmm.” The healer’s voice was skeptical. “You know, the creche has not been silent about the ‘pretty human’ since your visit. They’d like to see you again, but if it will result in this it may be unwise.”

 

Lance froze. How did a Galran healer who’d only seen him twice, once when he’d been passed out, manage to recognize that he was putting on a mask when his own team never did?  _ How _ ?

 

The rage coming off of Zarkon shifted into a calmer anger and, after Lance’s shoulder was treated and they were back in the room assigned to Lance, he said, “You Blue Paladins are entirely too compassionate for your own good.”

 

“Oh, shut it.”

 

“You injured yourself because you realized there are innocents who can and will be hurt in one way or another in this battle. That is the nature of war, Lance McClain.”

 

“Wouldn’t be if you’d stop being a dick and leave planets that don’t want to be your little fiefdoms  _ alone _ .” Lance snapped, eyes taking on an icy light. “You don’t have the right to take over planets and enslave people, to throw people like Shiro into some stupid gladiator Arena for your sick entertainment when they were just on a mission for science!” The reminder of what Shiro had been through, what Pidge had lost and was still searching for, of the Blade of Marmora who fought to end the Empire’s tyranny, strengthened the resolve that had been flagging inside Lance. “I’m not going to stop fighting against you. I’m not going to lay down my arms and let you walk all over the universe even if I  _ hate _ myself for it because I’ll know that I may be taking away someone one of those beautiful babies in the creche loves!” 

 

He stalked forward and, using his newly healed arm, shoved hard enough that Zarkon actually staggered back a step. “So, do your best. Put forth all the effort you want. I will  _ never _ join you. I can handle hating myself for taking someone away from their family. I would never be able to stand being alive if I betrayed  _ my _ family. Voltron is my family.”

 

“You say that with such conviction.” Zarkon looked down at Lance. “But I do wonder, Lance, if they feel the same way? You have thrived, have  _ bloomed _ here. Your skills improving in leaps and bounds. Yet, between battles when you were with your...’family’, you maintained the same skill level as you were initially. With the conviction you just expressed, I find it impossible to believe that is because you did not train or work to improve. Tell me, did the Champion ever work with you to teach you as my soldiers have done? Did the Red Paladin? Or did they leave you to fend for yourself without any guidance at all?”

 

Lance hid his flinch. “What my family does is none of your damned business.”

 

Zarkon’s smile was humorless, and almost cruel. “That is all the answer I need. You should consider, Lance, what sort of family you have when your biggest enemies treat you better than they do.” On those words he swept out, leaving Lance to tumultuous thoughts and heartache again.

 

\----------------------------------------------------

 

Lance threw himself into the training, into learning all he could about the Galra, about the universe, about everything. Anything to distract himself and possibly give Voltron an edge once he was back with them. He refused to let himself have enough thinking room that Zarkon’s mind games could twist him up again.

 

He even crossed the line he’d drawn in his personal sand and started talking to  _ druids _ , learning what he could about what they did, how they did it, about quintessence, about the pure energy within everything. 

 

He’d learned that he had more than compassion, that he was an empath. Learned how to meditate so he could shield himself from other people’s emotions.

 

And through that he finally,  _ finally _ connected with Blue. Just for an instant on the astral plane, but one second he was meditating to center himself and the next he was opening his eyes, surrounded by deep blue water and moving ice. A blink and then he was seeing a gorgeous blue lioness standing across from him on the ocean floor. He hit his knees and held out his arms to her.  _ “Oh God, Blue. Help me.” _

 

He only had the time to see her lift a paw to step forward before he was jolted out of the astral plane, not able to maintain the connection with his nascent understanding of quintessence and the distance. It left him drained for a quintant but he still trained.

 

If he could train through the utter exhaustion of that astral experience then once he was back with his team, he could fight through the tiredness brought on by Allura’s training schedule.

 

\----------------------------------------

 

One phoeb passed, two, then three, and Lance kept training, kept pushing himself. He missed his music, his playlists on the iPod he’d had on him when they’d busted Shiro out, missed the instrument like a guitar he’d managed to bargain for on a swap moon once, but he kept that tightly to himself. A little thing to help him hold on and not fall back into the floundering lack of resolve he’d been in before. 

 

Because Zarkon just did. not. stop.  _ talking _ .

 

He praised Lance, his improving skills, his clever mind, his compassion, his sharp tongue, his humor, his stubbornness, his habit of taking time to play with the children on board, the way he’d flirted his way into kicking the ass of one of the top generals who’d come to train, even the homesickness that had caught up to Lance and made him cry once when he’d thought no one was looking. Everything that Lance had ever been called annoying or stupid for by his team, Zarkon praised it, called it valuable. Even his beauty routine became a subject of praise after he explained it to a few of the civilians onboard. Civilians that had then gone on to use the routine to pretty themselves up and seduce the quiznak out of soldiers that had been dragging their asses about claiming the ones they wanted as mates.

 

Zarkon made it seem as though Lance could do no wrong and drew attention to how the Paladins had treated Lance as though he could do nothing right, creating a contrast that made Lance’s heart hurt and his head swim.

 

He knew what the bastard was doing, knew he was trying to make Lance think that the Galra Empire was the best thing ever and Voltron was scum of the earth. He knew it was all a manipulation, but it didn’t change how it made him feel.

 

So he kept little things in his heart. Music, he’d never hear or dance to his music again if he didn’t go back to Voltron. The restraint cuffs and collar that kept him here against his will. He continued to try and escape. Hunk’s hugs, and, God, he could use one of those right now. Allura’s shining eyes when he’d brought her a sparkly shell he’d found on a beach after a successful mission; she’d been so happy with something so small, he’d never see that happiness again if he gave in.

 

He’d never hear Coran tell him about something that had happened in his youth or feel him pat his shoulder in comfort when he caught Lance huddled under the star map. He’d never get to sit with Pidge and plan out a prank again or watch her finish growing up. 

 

He’d never get to poke at Keith until his eyes sparked, or make that reluctant half-smile twitch at the corner of his mouth, or watch him move like the beautiful fire that he held in his heart in battle again. He’d never see the day Keith’s hair grew out long enough to braid, or see him finally pull his head out of his ass and ask Shiro out. And Shiro, he’d never hear him call him sharpshooter again, never get to sit with him in the calm quiet after Shiro had a nightmare and talk at him about Varadero until Shiro could breathe once more, never get to watch silver gray eyes go warm with contentment in his team again. He’d never get to watch Shiro stand tall and proud and stare down those ignorant asses at the Garrison who’d tried to lock him away while Votron stood behind Shiro and fucking  _ dared _ them to try something, never get to see Shiro smile at Keith like a super sappy idiot as they cuddled on the couch during a team bonding night. 

 

He’d never get to sit there, one part of him bruised and aching with longing and the other incandescent with joy as he watched the two people he loved most be in love with each other.

 

So he had to hold on, had to fight to keep Zarkon’s manipulations from working, had to keep trying to escape, had to bury his fears and insecurities that the team wouldn’t come for him deep down. 

 

The only time he let himself listen to Zarkon was when the bastard spoke about the Lions. Things he’d need to know, thing he’d need to relay to the team.

 

Like the fact that the Lions needed to immerse themselves in their elements regularly so they could absorb the quintessence they needed to operate at the peak of their abilities. And that their weapons leveled up as their Paladins did. That the bond only became fully functional once each Paladin connected in a specific way with their lion. It was different for each one.

 

And he learned about the roles of the Paladins. That Red was the team’s passion, Green the logical mind, Yellow the strength of body and will, Blue the heart, and Black the one who balanced them all. He learned that Yellow tended to mother and worry, Red was fiercely protective and charged in...well like a lion, Green tended toward boredom and mischief, Black was understanding and would take on guilt for things beyond their control, and Blue tended toward being kind and emotionally vulnerable.

 

Lance tucked all that information away, fought to hold on, and waited for his chance.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time Measurements  
>  **Tick** : Equivalent to a second  
>  **Dobosh** : Equivalent to a minute  
>  **Varga** : Equivalent to a hour  
>  **Quintant** : Equivalent to a day  
>  **Movement** : Equivalent to a week  
>  **Phoeb** : Equivalent to a month  
>  **Decaphoeb** : Equivalent to a year

Six phoebs since Lance had woken up to a purple room, he was in the middle of a meditation when the door opened. It caught his attention immediately because no one but Zarkon entered the room without knocking and, even then, Zarkon rarely came in without announcing his presence.

 

His eyes snapped open and he frowned at the Galra walking toward him, something familiar in their movements. Then he saw the knife and the symbol of the Blade of Marmora.

 

Lance’s smile lit up the room. He looked down at the cuffs before meeting the Blade’s eyes, getting a nod of understanding. He held perfectly still as the Blade took out a small device, attaching leads to each cuff and the collar, and then input commands. Lance held his breath until, with an exhilarating click, the restraints fell off.

 

He was on his feet in a tick and used Galra sign language, something else he’d learned, to ask the Blade what the plan was, ignoring the flash of surprise before the Blade responded.

 

Small explosive charges that would only take out the ship’s ability to follow had been set at the ship’s thrusters, and one charge at each hangar bay door to disable them once they were out and gone, trapping fighters inside. A few rebel fighters would provide a distraction that would allow Lance and the Blade to get to the small ship that was waiting for them to escape on.

 

Lance signed, “The children in the creche will be safe?” and got a nod in return. Knowing the Galra children wouldn’t be hurt made the tension gripping his shoulders fade a little. He very nearly bounced on his toes, eager to go, as the Blade signaled the rebels to start the distraction.

 

Once that was in motion, he ran alongside his rescuer as quickly as he could. His mind focused on home and Blue and his team. He was still aware of everything around him, the senses honed even sharper over his captivity keeping him alert, and moved seamlessly with the Blade as they avoided being seen.

 

They were almost there, almost to the ship, when Zarkon himself appeared in their way.

 

Lance didn’t think twice, didn’t slow down. He grabbed two simple knives from the Blade’s waistband and ran at Zarkon. He threw a knife into Zarkon’s shoulder with all the force he could muster, bunched his legs and took a leap, kicking Zarkon’s weapon away and pinning him down. Prying Zarkon’s mouth open with the knife he still held, Lance yanked the knife he’d thrown out of Zarkon’s shoulder and used it to cut the manipulative fuck’s tongue out before he was thrown off the bastard.

 

He flipped in midair and landed in a crouch, but one glance at the Blade and he knew he couldn’t get into a fight to the death with Zarkon. They had to get out before more soldiers swarmed into the hangar. So he turned and ran to the escape ship, buckling himself in as the Blade took the controls. They shot out of the hangar bay and into space, explosions behind them sealing the doors shut.

 

Lance stayed silent as they flew away, silent until they were far enough away to be safe, silent until the Blade glanced over at him, the knives clenched in his fists, Zarkon’s tongue laying against the hilt under his fingers.

 

“Do you intend to keep that and my daggers as a souvenir? If not, please clean the blood off my daggers before you return them to me.”

 

Lance looked down at his hands then tossed back his head and laughed, and laughed, and laughed, relief an effervescent fizz in his blood.

 

The Blade did not even blink in surprise at the laughter. They knew that some kind of release was needed after captivity, especially one as prolonged as the Blue Paladin had been under.

 

When the laughter was spent, Lance slumped in his seat, a tired smile on his face. “I’m keeping the tongue, but I’ll clean the daggers up and give them back. Thanks for the loan.”

 

“Anytime.”

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------

 

It took two movements to get to the Castle of the Lions. During which Lance had been ushered into a Blade safehouse, where he’d been checked over to within an inch of his life, scrubbed down, polished up, and gotten the tongue preserved as a trophy. He’d cleaned the daggers and returned them to the Blade who’d rescued him before Kolivan appeared and took charge of getting Lance the rest of the way back to the Castleship.

 

Now they were in an away ship and Lance was twitching a little in excitement.

 

“You impressed my lieutenant.”

 

“Mmm?” The statement from Kolivan brought Lance out of his thoughts. “Oh, the tongue thing?”

 

“In part. He also mentioned your speed on the run and using sign language.”

 

“You want to know what happened, right?” Lance could pick up on the cues. “Zarkon was trying to convince me to join him. Open captivity. The kill you with kindness sort of thing. Training was part of it.”

 

Kolivan nodded his understanding. “Zarkon played with your mind rather than torturing your body.”

 

“Yeah. It almost worked.” He could feel Kolivan’s surprised glance. “First phoeb, I was so freaking confused about what he was up to, how he was acting, the restricted freedom I had. I’m a social person so--”

 

“You grew to know the soldiers and civilians around you.”

 

“Yeah, stupid of me, but I don’t do well in isolation. And all I could think was about how here’s all these other people on this side who are risking their lives for an ideal, just like me and the team, and how they have families and some of them have lost loved ones, and then I met those kids.” He closed his eyes. “They were so curious, so thrilled to meet someone new and different, and they reminded me so much of my younger brothers and sisters. Just a bunch of kids who don’t know war or the fear and loss of it, kids whose parents Voltron might kill one day, take away a huge piece of that innocence.”

 

Kolivan was silent, letting Lance talk it out.

 

“I got stuck on that for a movement, upped the escape attempts and wound up dislocating my shoulder. After it was fixed, Zarkon tried feeding me a line about the nature of war and it  _ pissed me off, _ because there wouldn’t even  _ be _ a war if he wasn’t such a massive bag of  _ dicks, _ and I listed that and everything else I could think of that made a difference, including the Arena bullshit Shiro was put through. It kicked my ass out of the confusion. Got me to accept what I’ll have to do to put an end to the slavery and world invasions and Zarkon’s general dickishness.”

 

Lance rolled his shoulders. “Of course he didn’t shut up. Kept up with the ‘Oh, Lance, you’re so great,’ talk and shit until I wanted to scream and blow his head off.”

 

Kolivan’s lips turned up the faintest bit at the corners. “So you cut his tongue out.”

 

“So I cut his quiznaking tongue right the fuck out.” Lance nodded decisively. “And, God, it felt good.”

 

“You will be the envy of many in the universe.”

 

Lance laughed. “I’ll settle for people feeling like they can stand up and boot Zarkon’s forces off their planets.” Lance studied his hand, considered the new calluses. “I didn’t get the chance to ask back at the safehouse, what with being poked and prodded and checked over for any brainwashing or anything dangerous--you guys are super thorough and I’m impressed--but...how’s the team been?”

 

“As well as can be expected. They continued on with freeing planets, though it was more difficult without Voltron.”

 

Lance’s back went poker-straight. “What? Why didn’t they have Voltron?”

 

“The Blue Lion refused anyone entry. Even the suggestion of a temporary pilot was rejected with very loud finality.”

 

Warmth filled Lance’s chest. He’d worried, in the back of his head, that Blue might have had to chose someone else, might have needed to open up so the team could form Voltron. Hearing that she hadn’t, that she’d held out for him even at the cost of not having Voltron, soothed at least one of the aching wounds that had been left on his heart from his captivity. “That’s my girl.”

 

“She is, indeed. It was the Blue Lion that managed to convey where you were to the Black Lion, who then relayed it to the Black Paladin, after which we began planning the mission to retrieve you. It took a great deal of argument to keep your team from simply going on to a full frontal attack.”

 

And Lance smiled, bright and wide as they exited a wormhole and he saw the Castle and felt Blue in his mind. “Then let’s not keep them waiting. Do me a favor, though?”

 

“What favor?”

 

“Don’t tell the team that Zarkon’s manipulations almost worked. It’d just hurt them and I don’t want that.”

 

The Blade leader studied Lance for a long moment before nodding. “I will not tell them unless it becomes a matter of necessary information.”

 

“Good enough.”

 

The team hadn’t yet arrived when Lance got out of the away ship, so he went directly to Blue’s hangar where she had her barrier up. “Hey, Beautiful, I’m home.”

 

The barrier vanished and Lance ran forward, leaping up as Blue crouched to that he could land on her head and run his hands over the cool metal, lean down to press his brow to it. Tears squeezed out from behind his eyes as he felt Blue’s joy in his mind and he returned it back double. “I’m home. You got me home.” He connected with her and let the images of his rescue and the knowledge that it was because of her they’d known where he was pass to her. “Thank you.”

 

The entire hangar vibrated with Blue’s purr even as Lance heard running footsteps and the welcome sound of Hunk’s voice.

 

“LANCE! LANCE!”

 

“I’ll come back later, Beautiful. Have some cockpit time with you.” He pet his hand over metal. “We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

 

He felt the flood of warm encouragement and assurance that came from her, then slid down her nose to land and walk toward the hangar entrance just as Pidge and Hunk rounded the corner.

 

“Lance!” Pidge was a quick little gremlin and outpaced Hunk to take a flying leap at Lance, arms locking around his waist. “You jerk! You disappearing jerk! Don’t you ever do that to me again! If you do, I’ll kill you.”

 

Lance managed to stay on his feet, giving a watery laugh as he wrapped his arms around her, noticing that she’d gained an inch or two. “Aw, but then who will make sure you eat and sleep?”

 

“No one! Even Matt can’t manage it!”

 

His brows lifted, but he didn’t have time to ask as he was scooped up into one of Hunk’s famous bear hugs.

 

“Lance!” Hunk was crying, tears pouring down his face as he hugged both Lance and Pidge close. “I’m so glad you’re back, so glad you’re okay!”

 

Lance grinned through his own tears. “It’s good to be here. I’ve missed your hugs like  _ breathing, _ buddy.” His grin just widened when that hug tightened, making Pidge squeak. He managed to maneuver so Pidge was still holding onto him but not being smothered by Hunk and he had one arm around her shoulders and the other around Hunk as best he could. He pressed his cheek to Hunk’s shoulder and relaxed into the embrace.

 

He heard other footsteps running and angled his head to see Keith and Shiro arrive in Blue’s hangar. Keith looked...a little like hell, frankly, hair a complete mess, bags you could carry a month of clothes in under his eyes, cheeks a little hollow. Shiro wasn’t much better, stubble rough on his jaw, strain in the new lines on his face, and--if Lance wasn’t mistaken--that was a man bun on top of his head.

 

He grinned at them. “Hey, come join the huggle puddle.”

 

“You  _ idiot _ !” Keith sprang in a leap and crashed into them all, a hand gripping tight at the back of Lance’s neck, shaking just a little. “Don’t you ever do this shit to us again!”

 

“Language.” Shiro’s voice was rough as he walked over, doing his best to remain calm, and gripped Lance’s shoulder. He smiled. “Welcome back, Lance. You’ve been missed.”

 

Lance’s heart felt like it was about to burst with joy, then he heard a soft swish and scuff and saw Allura and Coran come into view. As soon as she saw him, the glint of tears formed in Allura’s eyes and she was running to join the huddle, hand petting his hair. “You look good. I think you are taller.”

 

“Probably.” He half closed his eyes, not wanting to lose sight of them all now.

 

“Why do you look so good? I mean, I don’t think a couple movements in a healing pod, much less whatever the Blade has at their safehouses, would get you looking better than you did before. What happened? You didn’t get used as like an experiment or something, did you?”

 

“Pidge,” Shiro’s voice held warning.

 

“It’s alright, Shiro.” Lance heard Keith actually growl and felt what he could swear were claws faintly pricking his nape. “Er...mullet?”

 

“It’s  _ not _ okay. Don’t say it’s okay. You were taken. You were held by Zarkon for six  _ phoebs _ . Four of those while we had to sit around with our thumbs up our asses while we waited for the Blade to get a chance to get you out. It’s not okay!” Keith was almost snarling now and, yeah, those were fangs.

 

“Dude...what’s with the fangs? And I think those are claws poking my neck?”

 

“Shit,” Keith hissed and jerked his hand away.

 

“Whoa, hey, no. Get back here. You weren’t hurting me, you bonehead, just...” Lance studied the claws on Keith’s fingers. “Okay, that’s kinda cool. But, um...how?”

 

“Keith’s Galra genetics seem to have...manifested more strongly due to emotional distress.” Allura explained. “According to the Blade’s medicals it is not uncommon.”

 

“Huh.” Lance watched as Keith calmed down enough that the claws retracted. “I repeat my ‘get back here.’ You are not escaping a cuddle pile, you socially-handicapped furry.”

 

Pidge laughed, her face buried in Lance’s sternum.

 

“Idiot.” But the tension fled Keith’s body as he looked into the blue of Lance’s eyes. 

 

“Emo-queen,” Lance teased back. 

 

“How about we move this to the main common room so we can all sit and relax?” Hunk suggested. “And Lance can tell us...whatever he wants to.”

 

“That’s a good idea.” Shiro nodded.

 

“I claim Lance’s front,” Pidge said. “Hunk can have his back. Keith can have his feet. Allura his left side, Shiro his right.”

 

“You’re not leaving Coran out, now are you, Pidgeon?” Lance looked down at the top of her head.

 

“Fine. Coran and Allura can rotate.” It was a reluctant grumble and made them all laugh.

 

Hunk held onto Lance as they made their way out of Blue’s hangar but Lance glanced back to see Kolivan talking to a man who looked around Shiro’s age and a lot like Pidge. The infamous Matt. When and how had they found him? “I’m not the only one with things to tell.”

 

“What you’ve got to say is more important. Matt is old news by now,” Shiro said.

 

Lance caught the sight of Pidge’s brother flipping Shiro off and laughed. “Oooh, I sense conflict.”

 

“Matt’s been driving Shiro  _ nuts _ .” Pidge chirped. “Treats Shiro more like a brother than the leader of Voltron, that included telling embarrassing stories about him. It’s been beautiful.”

 

“Definitely going to have to get to know your brother.” Lance decided. “There are embarrassing stories about Shiro?”

 

“No.” Shiro tried to sound authoritative, but he was blushing.

 

“Yes!” Everyone else answered, Keith especially grinning at Shiro. “I think my favorite is the lost swim trunks story.”

 

Lance listened to light bickering until they reached the common room and he was pulled down and piled on. 

 

“So?” Pidge asked, snuggled on Lance’s chest. “What happened?”

 

“A lot.” He rubbed her back lightly. Shiro and Allura weren’t clinging to his sides like Pidge had assigned, he hadn’t expected them too, but they were sitting close and Keith actually had his legs in his lap. That wasn’t surprising. Keith’s abandonment issues had to have exploded over the time he was gone. “He wanted me to join him, thought being nice would convince me.”

 

Keith snorted. “Not in a million decaphoebs.”

 

“Awww, I’m all toasty inside at your faith in me.” Lance grunted at the sharp pinch to his calf. 

 

“Nice how?” Hunk sounded worried.

 

“I was allowed to roam and train, fed well, was treated more like a guest by the Galra onboard than a prisoner. Except for the restraints that kept me from escaping. Free access to the library, my own quarters. That kind of thing. And daily visits from his turtleness.” Lance made a disgusted sound. “Zarkon really likes the sound of his own voice.”

 

Pidge wiggled free and sat by Lance’s hip. “What’d he have to say?”

 

“A lot of stuff about the Lions and old Paladins.” 

 

Allura stiffened. “I doubt he told you the truth.”

 

Lance reached over and took her hand, squeezing it gently. “No telling. I plan to ask Blue about all of it. Pretty sure we can trust her.”

 

Allura relaxed and nodded. “Yes. Yes, you’re right.”

 

“What things will you be asking Blue about?” Shiro looked down at Lance, taking in the differences just six phoebs had made in his features. They’d become more defined and perhaps hardened some.

 

“To start, if the Lions really do need to immerse themselves in their elements to work best.”

 

Keith leaned closer over Lance’s legs. “What?”

 

“According to the bastard,” Lance ignored Shiro’s murmured language reprimand, “the Lions need to soak in their elements. It supposedly boosts their quintessence. It’d make sense, I guess. Remember on the Mer planet, Hunk?”

 

“Yeah, Yellow had such a hard time, but it was like Blue was made for fighting underwater.” Hunk combed his fingers through Lance’s hair. “Did she respond faster after we were back at the castle?”

 

“For a while, yeah.” Lance nodded. “So, that’s question number one.”

 

“I don’t understand why Zarkon would hand you good information.” Pidge was frowning. “It gives us an advantage.”

 

“He wasn’t exactly expecting me to escape,” Lance said drily. “Very happy to blow that expectation up.”

 

Shiro chuckled. “I wish I could have seen his face.”

 

“There’s always the mind doohickies, if you want. I can give you guys the front row seat to the removal of one Galra Emperor’s tongue.”

 

Keith stared. “You...”

 

Lance’s grin bordered on feral. “You bet your mullet.”

 

Hunk made an ‘ick’ sound, but it was drowned out by Keith actually laughing.

 

Lance just settled back against Hunk and let home wash over him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lance's escape is not the end of Zarkon's plan so I can promise there is PLENTY more to go with this. But for now, enjoy Lance's happy and the mental image of him cutting Zarkon's tongue out.


End file.
